


Taking Our Time

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Disappointing Sex Dreams, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Morning Sex, Mostly Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wakes up all at once when, beside him, Sharon sighs and flops onto her back, hard enough to make the bed shake. His first thought — sleep-fogged and irrational — is that she’s mad at him. A second later his brain catches up; she must be dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Our Time

Steve wakes up all at once when, beside him, Sharon sighs and flops onto her back, hard enough to make the bed shake. His first thought — sleep-fogged and irrational — is that she’s mad at him. A second later his brain catches up; she must be dreaming.

He rolls over, careful not to jostle her, and watches with some fascination as she twitches a little, her eyes darting side to side under her eyelids. Her hips shift minutely forward, she makes a tiny noise in her throat that Steve recognizes. He smiles; she must be having a good dream.

Then she grits her teeth and hisses, “Dammit, Steve.”

The smile drops from Steve’s lips at once. What did I do, he almost asks out loud.

He reaches out, but stops himself just short of touching her. He doesn’t like to do that to people while they’re asleep — too many of his friends have both nightmares and superpowers, and Sam nearly decked him once when Steve tried to wake him from a nap on the couch.

But it doesn’t seem like Sharon is having a nightmare. Not exactly. Still...

He’s just made the decision to touch her shoulder, leaving himself plenty of room to block a hit if he has to, when she sighs again, definitely disgruntled this time. His eyes widen when she moves sharply, her hips coming up off the mattress. She yanks open her panties with her left hand, and shoves her right hand inside. The quick, rough motion of her wrist leaves nothing to the imagination as far as what she’s doing.

Steve stares, slack-jawed, for a few breaths before he shakes himself and forces his eyes away. He can feel his cheeks burning, even as his traitorous dick stirs in his boxers, reacting to the situation at hand. He clears his throat somewhat loudly, hoping the sound will wake her.

It doesn’t.

“Sharon,” he says softly.

Sharon frowns but nothing more. He says her name again and reaches out again, this time resting his fingers on her wrist. It stills at once, and Sharon opens her eyes.

“Hey,” Steve whispers. “You okay?”

“Hey,” Sharon echoes with a confused smile. “What’s wrong?”

Before Steve can answer, she seems to wake up the rest of the way. Her eyes go wide, and she pulls her hand out of her underwear and twists away, burying her face in the pillow.

“I was dreaming,” she groans.

Steve chuckles. “I kind of figured. You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he murmurs, leaning over to brush his lips against her neck.

Sharon’s answering laugh is muffled but genuine. She rolls onto her back again and takes his hand, laying it over her torso.  

“Sorry I woke you,” she says. “What time is it?”

Steve levers himself up quickly to check. “About an hour until the alarm goes off.”

Sharon nods, closing her eyes. She strokes his wrist, and Steve settles at her side, content to drift back with her into sleep.

After a moment, however, he realizes that something about the sensation of her hand on his is strange. Steve opens his eyes again and frowns, thinking hard for a second before it clicks: her fingertips are completely dry.

“Wait,” he says slowly, “that wasn’t a sex dream?”

Sharon’s eyes open. “No, it was,” she replies, her cheeks going pink, “it just a _bad_ sex dream.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “The dream was bad, or the sex was bad?”

“The sex,” she clarifies. “The dream was just weird.”

“Oh,” says Steve. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

“I guess,” Sharon says with a shrug. “It was just a dream.”

“Still...”

Steve eases his hand out of hers and caresses her soft, firm stomach. The fabric of her tank top makes his palm tingle slightly, but Sharon emits a small, contented noise and smiles. Her expression is so warm and beautiful, and still a bit blurry with sleep, that Steve nudges closer, close enough to press his lips to hers.

She rolls to face him and runs her hand up Steve’s bare side. The feel of her skin against his, it lights him up, especially when she slips her tongue out after a moment, drawing him in even more. Steve opens to her, letting her take charge. His body responds, his cock filling in earnest now, as he slides his fingers through her sleep-rumpled hair and down, past her collarbone to trace the shape of her breast.

Time stutters between them. It speeds and slows simultaneously as their hands roam over each other, until finally Sharon shifts her mouth away from Steve’s to nibble at his earlobe, and Steve moves without thought, without meaning to. He only realizes he’s pulled her on top when Sharon’s hair is framing his face and her bare thighs are snug around his hips.

“So what was bad about it?” he asks, a little breathless because her tongue is dancing along the shell of his ear now. “About the dream sex, I mean?”

He can all but hear her roll her eyes. “You really want to know?” she murmurs. “Now?”

The low vibration of her voice starts a cascade of chills that has him arching up, his cock trapped, tangled in his underwear against her belly, so it takes Steve another moment to answer the question.

“If you don’t mind saying.”

She huffs out a breath and sits up, a smirk twisting her lips. “All right. If you must know, it was you.”

Steve blinks, suddenly all too aware of the lack of blood flow to his brain — he really shouldn’t have asked. “Me?”

Sharon nods, obviously making a concerted effort to keep a straight face. “Yeah. You were terrible. Sorry,” she adds, just before she breaks and giggles.   

“Oh,” Steve says finally. He’s not sure if he should be offended or not. “Why? What was I doing?”

“You were trying to rush me,” she replies, bending forward to give him a brief, chaste kiss.

“That wasn’t very nice of me,” Steve drawls.

“No,” Sharon agrees. “Plus,” she adds with a little grin, “you kept turning into Sam. It was very distracting.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Something you want to tell me?” he asks, mock-serious.

Sharon just laughs again, but she pulls down his boxers enough to wrap a hand around the base of Steve’s cock. She starts to stroke him, slow and gentle. Steve lets his eyes flutter shut, lets himself get a little lost in the sensation. He can’t help making a little disappointed noise when she stops much too soon and climbs off, making the mattress dip beside him.

He opens his eyes and watches her wriggling free of her sleep clothes. He shimmies out of his own underwear, wincing when the rough elastic scrapes the tip of his cock where he’s already sensitive and wet.

“Hang on,” he says, though, when Sharon straddles him again, a condom in her hand. He steadies her with one arm while he reaches across to switch off the alarm clock with the other.

“There,” he says. “No alarms, no deadlines. I’d like to take my time, if that’s all right with you.”

A slow smile dawns on Sharon’s face that far outshines the pale light filtering through their lacy bedroom curtains. “I’d like that.”

So Steve does.


End file.
